


pizza cutter

by orphan_account



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Bullying, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 05:39:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13804593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sometimes, in life, you don’t get the satisfaction of having any relief.





	pizza cutter

**Author's Note:**

> im so so sorry for this, i was listening to slowed down music and got this really random inspiration and went with it
> 
> i highly recommend you look at the tags to see what kind of thing you're in for if you haven't done that already.

Jihoon thinks it’s pathetic. They’re all pathetic. He’s had quite enough of this bullshit, but what can he do about it, right? Oh, he’ll tell you what he’ll do about it. Wait, better yet, he’ll _show_ you what he can do about it.

The steady beat coming from the other room pounds into his head, it’s somewhere around 90 BPM, he guesses. He moves at the same beat as the song, his fingers tapping along the kitchen counter as he walks over to where the drawers are. As he opens them one by one, his nerves start getting the best of him. He struggles trying to go through the drawers, searching for what he needs to find. Something tells him that his shaky hands would probably do best without what he’s searching for, though.

Too bad, because he’s definitely doing it. The anger in his veins is getting the best of him and, for some reason, he doesn’t feel like stopping it at all. What’s going to win though? Will his nervousness overpower the anger, or will the anger prevail? It seems like he’s going to have to find out for himself.

He groans in frustration as he glances around the kitchen. He’s completely unfamiliar with it, and the uncertainty of his own actions is starting to throw him off, but he’s determined. The music switches and some other, annoying, generic beat starts playing and he laughs out of frustration. They’re so fucking basic, it’s unbelievable how he managed to put up with them for so long.

He reaches the other end of the kitchen and starts opening random drawings and cupboards. At this point, he’ll settle for anything sharp enough, it doesn’t have to be a knife. Hell, he’d settle for a pizza cutter. It doesn’t matter at this point, he’ll make it work with sheer will power.

His hands start tensing up out of frustration. Why does this damn place have nothing at all? He kicks a counter out of irritation, the sound drowned out by the shitty music.

It doesn’t take anything sharp to kill someone, though. He knows this very well. He’s seen it happen himself. It doesn’t take serious determination to kill somebody, either. All it takes is carelessness, absolute ignorance, and a lack of basic empathy.

To think that people would just let somebody die, while it could have been completely prevented. To think that people would completely disregard somebody’s feelings like that, completely disregard somebody’s worth.

Jihoon was so madly in love with him. He was a god sent angel, and Jihoon was in no way a religious man. Yoon Jeonghan was just so good, _too_ good, even. Too good for him, at least. Jihoon would have traded everything he had if it meant that Jeonghan could be happy, but nothing ever seemed like it was enough. No matter what Jihoon did for him, Jeonghan was never truly happy, and he could see it. He could see it so clearly. He thinks that if other’s cared as much as he did, Jeonghan could still be here. He thinks that if others were decent human beings, they wouldn’t have laughed at Jeonghan.

Yet, they _still_ laugh at jeonghan. They do it behind Jihoon’s back, when they think he’s not listening. Little do they know that Jihoon will absorb any piece of information relating to Jeonghan, so of course he knows what they say.

“Good riddance.”

“That’s one less annoyance to deal with.”

“He should have done it a long time ago, saved us all the trouble.”

“He was a slut anyway.”

He thinks he’s even once heard somebody say that Jihoon was no better than him, that Jihoon should follow in his steps, but they don’t treat him nearly as bad as they treated Jeonghan, because Jihoon knows how to put them back into their place. They’re right to say that Jihoon isn’t better than Jeonghan, though. He wasn’t worthy of him, and he ended up failing Jeonghan in the end. He’s the worst.

Jeonghan never made him feel bad about himself though. He would always reassure him and tell him the sweetest things that Jihoon always doubted, but the look in the older boy’s eyes told him that there was no arguing with him, so he didn’t.

Jihoon wonders if Jeonghan would try to stop him right now. He was always the type of person who’d want to do the right thing. If only he weren’t as nice. If he bit back, maybe people would have left him alone, but he just refused to and it still frustrates Jihoon so much to this day.

He opens a drawer that he hasn’t gotten to before, and smiles out of pure joy when he finally finds where they keep their knives. A fine selection, if he does say so himself. Not that he’s a knife expert. He grabs the sharpest looking knife and passes the tip against the middle finger on his left hand to see how well it cuts. It takes a bit of pressure, but Jihoon manages to draw some blood with relative ease, so he doesn’t bother changing his choice.

Jihoon remembers when he told Jeonghan that he was in love. He kept getting pestered to reveal who the person was, but Jihoon couldn’t find it in himself to say his name. He couldn’t do it. A few days later, Jeonghan was found dead, knife resting next to his face and severe vertical cuts covering his wrist. It was disgusting. He hates that he had to be the one to have discovered his body, but he wouldn’t have allowed it to be anyone else. Jihoon doesn’t understand how a person as delicate looking as Jeonghan could manage to dig into his own flesh the way he did so thoroughly. Even Jihoon wouldn’t be able to do it.

He’ll learn how to dig into flesh now, though.

The music seems to have switched to a slower song, a song that Jihoon thinks is actually decent for once, perfect. He examines the knife one last time, before hiding it under his sleeve and making his way into the other room.

The sound stops being muffled and faded. It becomes clear and loud as he steps into the room. He makes his way into the center of it, but feels confused as he sees that nobody is in it. The music slows down more and starts warping. It warps and warps until he recognizes the familiar melody of Jeonghan’s favorite song.

What kind of sick joke are these fuckers playing on him?

“Hello?” he calls out. “Where is everyone?” he asks to the empty space, but gets no answer back.

His nerves get the best of him, and the sickening melody forces him back into the kitchen. He hastily puts the knife back where he found it, anxiety running up his back, panic setting in. He bolts back out of the kitchen, through the living room and into the entrance. He notes that his shoes are the only ones remaining as he shoves his feet in them and throws on his jacket.

His hands struggle with the lock and doorknob a bit but he manages to swing the front door open and step out into the cold darkness of the night. He closes the door behind him and the music sounds muffled enough to reassure him. Jihoon starts briskly walking away from the house, not looking back out of fear.

He doesn’t know what exactly he’s scared of. Maybe he thinks that somebody will catch on to what he wanted to do. Maybe somebody is going to do to him what he wanted to do to them. Maybe he’ll end up hearing their hushed whispers and their sharp words.

He keeps walking, and all he hears is the hollow sound of his footsteps against the cement, the flickering streetlights only barely helping him figure his way around as he tries to make his way somewhere, anywhere.

He eventually finds himself walking into a park that he isn’t entirely familiar with, but he knows that he’s been here before, at least. Slowing down, he makes his way to one of the benches and sits down, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders.

“Did you really think you could stab them?” he hears a sweet voice ask him. He tenses back up again and starts panicking.

“Maybe,” he replies. “I could have.”

The voice laughs and wraps its arms around Jihoon. “Then, why didn’t you?”

Jihoon wants to say that they disappeared, that he wasn’t able to find them, but the truth is as simple as the fact that he got too scared. The voice seems to know this, and demands no further explanation.

He’s mad at himself, but most of all he’s just sad.

Killing the people who killed his best friend wouldn’t bring Jeonghan back. He knows this, but the feeling of helplessness in his gut makes him want to tear his hair out, because there’s absolutely nothing he can do. There’s nothing to be done. He can’t bring Jeonghan back. What’s worse is that these people keep acting like they’re his friends. They keep speaking to him and even keep inviting him to places, and Jihoon goes along only because he knows he’d be rotting in bed otherwise.

What’s the point? What’s the point of living while knowing that he’s never going to get the love of his life back? The love of his life that got ripped away from him so unjustly. None of this had to happen, and the people who killed Jeonghan are out there walking around, acting like they had nothing to do with it. They talk to Jihoon as if they had no idea what they’ve done to him.

Arms unwrap from him and he finally let’s his tears fall down his face. They fall and they fall and breathing gets harder and harder and the more he tries to stop himself from wailing the more his sobs come out. No matter how hard he cries or how much he tries to cough up the ugly feeling in his chest, he doesn’t feel any relief, and he understands that it’s just the way it is. Sometimes, in life, you don’t get the satisfaction of having any relief.

His body slumps down against the bench, lying down on it and curling up. Somewhere, far away, he thinks he hears the grating sound of people’s laughter. He hopes that he gets killed as well.

**Author's Note:**

> cool so i didn't bother reading over this more than like. once. so i apologize for anything that doesnt make sense. hope you enjoyed whatever this is!


End file.
